Siren Lass
by Nightmare-belle
Summary: UNDER EDITING CONSTRUCTION, ON HOLD FOR NOW. A arcane siren is in danger of being hanged based on species and not her deeds. She takes Sanctuary up in Notre Dame's Belltower only to meet someone just as much of an outsider as herself. QuasimodoXOC
1. The Siren

"Come back here, harlot!" a guard yelled, racing after Enya, her lengthy vermilion hair trailing behind her. She slipped through the Notre Dame Square, easily eluding the maladroit guards who chased her at torpid speeds, comically tripping and falling over each other, their metal hats escaping their heads and covering their eyes. Mud streaked their once brilliant armor. Enya looked back, tickled by the guards' adversity. Gee, all of this unrest just for the frivolous crime of stealing half of a baguette. The poor girl hadn't eaten for days and carried no money on her; her last resort was her own desperation, drastic measures were required on her part in order to get what she needed to, quite literally, exist.

Okay, _maybe_ cussing at the guards and beating them up wasn't the _best_ way to get something that she wanted but it sure worked. She could've seduced the men into letting her get away, but that rarely succeeded and would probably make them irate (and probably consider her more of a harlot), plus she wasn't very good at it and considered it "weak" for someone like her to do such a foul thing. Better just to hit and run. Hell of a lot more effective too, considering she would be able to evade the guards faster than if she had beguiled them with her "charm" (which currently wasn't very relevant).

But at least she had gotten what she wanted and dodging the officials would be a breeze, given their physical and mental difficulties. Albeit, the situation really hadn't worked out according to plan…

_Enya crept towards a wooden cart that held fresh baguettes. She looked around at her surroundings to make sure no one was currently watching- and especially no guards. She didn't see any._

_ She walked towards the stand, hand outstretched. She grabbed a small piece of bread just as two guards rounded a corner. The girl tried to abscond but they promptly caught her._

_ "Stupid woman," one of them jeered. "You'll learn your place soon enough."_

_ Enya unleashed a string of garish curse words and squirmed about._

_ "Shut up!" the other guard yelled. "Take her away…"_

_ "NEVER!" Enya screamed and wrenched herself loose. She backwards kicked the man's groin and elbowed him. He fell to his knees._

_ Enya fled the scene. No doubt they'd want her thrown in jail or executed or whatever it is they did to young women who stole. She looked back and saw the guard get up, seemingly recovered. Her eyes widened and she ran even faster._

_ The guards caught sight of her and ran towards her as well, creating vociferous pandemonium._

Enya rounded a corner and hid in a nearby alley. The guards ran past her, heedless of her hideout. She sighed and bit into her bread. She treasured food so much; it was literally an indulgence to have it. The small bottle of wine she kept under her skirt slipped out and she downed about a half of it.

Little was known of Enya's history. She had specified once or twice that she was from somewhere near Scotland or Ireland but didn't say how she got to France-or even Paris for that matter. Who was she going to tell anyway? The only _slight_ acquaintances she had were a few besotted gypsies who had offered her a tent or lean-to to sleep under or an extra bottle of rum or wine and the occasional derisory scrap of food-or whatever was left of that scrap. But to digress, where _had_ Enya come from? And what _was _she doing here?

Only Enya knew the truth about herself. And that truth, she would never reveal to _anyone. Ever._

She was a siren.

Where she had originated from, folklore was often talked about. Not so much sirens (well, _before_ all the hype) but stories about them existed and were spoken about. They were seen as evil, they were told that they lured sailors to their death with their seductive vocals and long, burnished fish tails.

But she had never done that. She didn't want too. She was dissimilar from her race. The masses didn't know that though, and didn't care whether or not she explained that she didn't want to hurt anyone-it's just that she was born of mermaid kin. Ignorance ruled over the public; it was futile to try to reason with them. Peasants were also enraged at Enya's race because of various sailors apparently dying at sea. Instead of thinking of the obvious causes that they perished while on a voyage across the ocean (storms, loss of materials, disease, sinking ship) the people turned towards the mythical tales and literally went on a witch-hunt for these framed sirens.

During this time, Enya kept her secret well under wraps and was even more secretive than before. She had never told anyone, but when the hype rose up, Enya turned extremely inward. She wouldn't socialize with her friends; they were all against her, much less the public. Everyone was against her race. It would mean her demise if they found out.

Enya was sure she was in the clear during that time until a few people sighted her in a lake, going for an evening swim. They had instantly told the officials and she was immediately sentenced to death the next day.

That night in the dungeon was a chillingly quiet one. The only sounds were high-ranking officials occasionally yelling orders at guards and the whistling breeze outside of her cell. That night she just knew it. It was the night of her death; there was nothing she could do about it.

Unless there was maybe a way to escape. Enya clearly remembered this process. There was a stick at the corner of her dungeon. She grabbed it and snuck up to the edge of the cell where the two guards stood. Reaching her left arm out, she hit the man and he fell over, presumably unconscious. Enya squealed and jumped back. The other guard went to his side to try to revive him and drew out his sword, pointing it towards Enya. She hit him with the stick quickly as well and he too fell.

Enya pulled the keys off the man's side and unlocked the cell with much difficulty. She freed herself from the cell and ran down the stone hallways, lit by torches that lined the walls. Sleeping guards awoke from the ruckus and chased after her, literally on her tail.

Enya ran into a door and desperately tried to open it. She pushed and pushed and pushed at it but it would not give way. Then she remembered she had the keys with her.

With a wary glance at her attackers who were drawing nearer and nearer she fumbled with the lock and finally managed to unlock the door. Enya slipped out and ran into the night's fog.

She could hear the guards behind her, and even through the thick fog she could see the torches they held. The orange flames dancing in the wind. Her eyes widened and she ran towards the forest, tears brimming her eyes.

She came upon the edge of a large river and tested the water with her foot. It was cold. But sooner or later she would have to leave. She took one look back and was scared by the constant yelling. Her attackers were getting closer. Without further thought, she jumped in regardless of the temperature and started swimming. Her legs forming together quickly to shape a fish's tail.

Driven out of the village for being a monster, a demon, a temptress, a coquette, strumpet, wanton, wench, and more often than not, a harlot. All based on assumptions.

So Enya escaped. By swimming.

Little known, sirens were extraordinarily fast swimmers. Once Enya was safe from the officials, she swam slower. She was one of the slowest of her race, which was nice sometimes. She could observe everything from a point of view in which she took in her surroundings.

Enya felt so liberated to be swimming the seas without anyone trying to hold her back or put any restrictions on her. Enya swam and stopped here and there to look for land and to see where it would take her. She was so curious and adventurous, and to finally have the opportunity to travel was greatly appreciated by her.

Why she had chosen France she didn't know. She arrived on the coast and hitched rides with weary travelers who were on their way to Paris. She didn't know Paris, but felt the need to go there.

Not too far away from where Enya hid, the Notre Dame Cathedral emitted a fervent, melodious sound from its high towers. Those were the bells. They rang every day, dawn, midday, and nightfall. It was really just another ritual for Paris. Few individuals thought to consider that maybe someone was ringing them, and some even thought the bells rung by themselves, but no one spent time in reverie about these sorts of things- it was considered silly to focus on such a, deemed by many, trivial thought. Only few knew about the actually bell-ringer, and he wasn't ever spoken about. He was merely a pariah; an outcast if you will. He dwelled in these towers alone, no connection to any other human being other than the person who took him in and the Archdeacon.

The reason the bell-ringer's connections with people were small and he never went outside was literally because of his physique. The poor boy was born with a hunched back, an enlarged eyebrow bone that ended up sticking out abnormally farther than the other covering half of one of his eyes, and a turned-up nose slightly pressed against his face. All of this wouldn't have stopped him from entering the exterior world if the person who raised him (referred to as 'Master') hadn't convinced the poor bell-ringer that he was ugly and that his hideousness was a sin and that people would dislike him if he went out into the real world. That was enough to scare the dear boy into staying in the confines of the tower, but it wasn't enough to keep him from wondering what it was like to live amongst the people.

His Master, named Frollo, was the Minister of Justice and a cruel, religious man who at first tried to drown the boy when he was found as a baby because his appearance scared him. Luckily the Archdeacon stopped him in order to save his soul, but Frollo remained cruel towards the boy whom he had hatefully named "Quasimodo," meaning, "partially formed".

So little Quasimodo grew up within stonewalls, hungering for the outside world. All his life he had mused…

_What's out there?_

Enya finished the bread and the rest of her wine and peeked around a corner to maker sure the guards were gone. She gave a sigh of relief and entered into the square. She remembered that when she was eating her bread she had heard the euphonious sounds of the bells from the Notre Dame Cathedral. Ah, she loved those bells. To everyone else they were just a simple sound but she had fallen in love with them. They were so honeyed, so atmospheric. It was almost as if it brought her right into the moment when she heard them. Enya had to figure out who was ringing them, who could possibly be producing such a beautifully mellifluous sound. Such a sound that could make someone stop and think and just be in the moment and feel as if they could see time passing in front of them. Such a sound was entrancing.

Enya rushed towards the Cathedral, eager to find out where the sound was coming from, eager to know the person who could create such an ensorcell sound.

She walked slowly into the Cathedral, obviously wanting to be mannerly. It was a church, after all. She slipped through the back of the Cathedral and found a small hallway that held a flight of a narrow spiral stairs.

_These must lead up to the belltower!_ Enya thought, looking up. She rushed up them, only to realize they were much higher, and that there were seemingly thousands of steps. She needed to calm her avidity a bit and walk slowly up the steps. Enya did so.

She finally got to the top. Even walking the steps was arduous. Her inquiry got the best of her and she looked around.

Quasimodo sat polishing a bell in equanimity. He whistled quietly to himself and gaped at the beauty of the iron instrument. It was at times like this he forgot about his malformations and focused on the aesthetics of other things. He relished this moment of the day. He didn't have to focus on anything. It could just be him and the bells. All of the sudden he heard faint footsteps.

They were much less baleful than Frollo's.

They were _definitely_ not Frollo's.

Who was there?

** Just a note: Enya hasn't claimed sanctuary yet. She's literally just visiting the bell tower in this specific chapter. This is sort of how the story opens. You'll find out in following chapters how she ends up claiming sanctuary. Just wanted to clear that up a bit…**

** Expect updates to occur every weekend. That's when I have free time usually. If I miss a weekend or updates occur earlier it's just because of modifications to my schedule. I'll try to keep chapters as constant as I can though.**

**Right now you can expect early updates. I'm on my break and vacation-I'll be updating a lot.**

**Thanks to all of you who are reading! Please review!**

**-HunchbackOfNotreDame (or just call me Bella)**


	2. BellRinger

Quasimodo hopped down from the beam he sat on and quietly climbed down a tangle of wooden pillars onto the floor as silently as possible. He could still hear the footsteps seemingly approaching him. He held his breath as he shifted his head to try to see whoever it was. After what seemed like minutes of sidling around, he finally saw her.

A pale, leggy woman with long, coarse, bright red hair stood there. She was covered with dirt and dust and her faded dress was torn. A small bottle hung from a string attached to the dress. Quasimodo wondered what it contained.

"Hello?" Enya said. "Is anyone here?"

She looked around, slightly intimidated by the dank atmosphere and the dim light. The place was large and musty. Huge gargoyle statues were cluttered about the room; seemingly staring at her with their dull stone eyes. She coughed a bit as she passed through. Not because of the dust, but the fact that she was so cold. Ever since her food supply was slowly being limited from the harsh conditions of being money-less, she was rather bony and therefore more apt to be cold or sick. Quasimodo instantly felt sorry for her and decided he should say something to make her more at peace. After all, his dwelling was rather…well not the most desirable, let alone welcoming. But what _could_ he say? Oh, it made his stomach to twist into knots just thinking about it, talking to someone he didn't know.

The only other _human_ he had actually had in his existence.

As Quasimodo fathomed this he almost fainted. Here he was about to run his mouth and he JUST notices that this was the only other one of his species he had almost come in contact with. He could feel the oxygen leaving his brain. _Inhale!_ He told himself. _INHALE!_ He finally breathed in. Upon noticing how audible that breath was he covered his mouth. It was too late, the girl descried.

"I know someone's here," Enya remarked emphatically. "You don't have to be afraid, please, come out so I can meet you. I know no one here in Paris and would be pleased to make an acquaintance."

Now that Quasimodo had heard her speak an unabridged sentence, he noticed a slight rugged lilt to her voice. It was a slightly rough, funny sort of accent. She definitely wasn't French. His Master one time brought up how the Celtic regions had distinct accents when teaching Quasimodo about the world (the closest poor Quasi had ever gotten to it). Quasimodo decided she was from somewhere around there.

As he noticed her, he found that he was now holding a very strange feeling. It was so odd and fresh. He was simply enthralled by her! Not by her beauty (although Quasi did find her sort of pretty, even under all that dirt) but by the fact that she was really the only person that he had actually felt comfortable with. Ever. She didn't seem to be minatory and didn't give off any sort of rigid air, so Quasimodo instantaneously felt relaxed in her presence. On another note however, the poor bell ringer was horrified at the thought of her having to at one point look at him, glance at him, or even maybe _accidently_ see him. Quasi noticed he had been too solitary for a long time and that the girl would eventually find him so he tried to advance to another end of the room as quietly as possible. Upon doing so, he caused a few things to knock over creating a large noise. Enya heard this and rushed over to where he was.

"Ah!" Quasimodo heard himself say in surprise as he jumped behind a pillar. The girl swung her head around. She had heard him.

"H-hello…" Quasi greeted.

"So there IS someone here! I was beginning to think I was just hearing noises," Enya said and then noticed how rude her introduction was. "Please forgive me, hello."

"N-n-nice t-to meet y-you." Quasi stuttered out. He was still hidden.

"Are you the one who rings the bells?" she said naively, trying to look for the man who held the voice.

"Yes." Quasimodo said.

"The sound… it's really beautiful."

Quasimodo sheepishly smiled.

"Ah, well…It's really quite simple…All I do is pull the rope…" he said modestly.

"Yes but it's the _way_ you ring them. There's something to it. It's in the way the sound echoes, if that makes any sense."

Quasimodo smiled again. His face turned a diffident coral color. He had never been acclaimed so many times. Occasionally his master would half-praise him for remembering all the words to go along with the letters of the alphabet or specific details about damnation or various bible verses that he could just ever so lightly stutter out, but he had never been complimented for something he created, let alone bell-ringing. And now here was this woman, _talking_ to him. Actually speaking words to him that weren't profanity, biblical verses, or lecture speeches! He could hardly contain his felicity.

The lass poked her head around a pillar. Quasimodo hopped to a new one to further diminish his visibility even more significantly.

"Do you…live here?" she asked, looking up and seeing the bells that covered every inch of the ceiling.

"Y-yeah," Quasimodo said. "Yeah I do."

"Nicer than where I live."

"Well…where do _you_ live?"

That struck Enya. She didn't live anywhere. Usually she would sleep under a tent that an altruistic gypsy would lend her for a night or two and then move on.

"Well," she began, confused on how to answer his question. "I don't live anywhere. I don't have a home."

A sudden pain struck Quasimodo's aching heart. She was already pitiable looking, all grimy and mud covered with faded raindrop stains on her tattered attire, but the fact that she didn't have anywhere to _live_ was too much to bear. Oh how he just wanted to offer her to stay here for shelter! But that would not be allowed unless she claimed Sanctuary, which would probably not happen. She didn't look like a criminal, or a framed fugitive for that matter.

"I'm sorry I asked such a personal qu-question." Quasimodo said, upon realization that it was sort of funny that he had asked where she lived, given that he didn't know her very well. But she had asked him if this was the place in which he dwelled and then made a comment about how his home was rather nicer than her own so it was only fair to ask her where she lived. He was only interested; he didn't think her home could be any worse than his nippy bell tower.

"I don't mind," Enya said and then thought a bit. "I was being too intrusive with my own."

As she thought that over, she noticed that she hadn't even asked the bell-ringer's name! The chap hadn't asked what her name was either, but she was the one intruding his home. She winced at that thought and figured she should introduce herself.

"My name is Enya, by the way." she added, feeling as if that greeting might've been more polite.

Quasimodo, quite unknowingly, smiled. He liked the way her name sounded. Sort of song-like.

"Quasimodo," he started. "My name is Quasimodo."

Enya tried not to have her cringe show up in her voice.

"That's an interesting name." she said.

"I know it's not a very fortunate one…" Quasimodo replied.

"Oh don't worry, my parents were going to name me something much worse than that one!" Enya tittered, thinking of the time her parents were considering calling her Graaine*.

"Is there possibly a name worse than one that means partially formed?"

Just as Quasimodo spoke that witty comeback he slapped a hand over his mouth. _Damn…_he thought. _Now she'll want to know why Frollo named me that. I assume she thinks I look normal now, given that she cannot see me._

"Now why in the _hell_ would they name you something that meant that?" Enya said, slightly exasperated by the fact that anyone would name a child something that meant only half-made. She tried to get closer to Quasimodo, whom was still not visible.

"Well, everyone's afraid of me," Quasimodo stuttered out. He instantly berated himself for sounding so stupid. He felt weird about sharing his problems with a perfect stranger but he also felt oddly relaxed sharing his issues with her. "Because of what I look like…or that's what I've been told."

"I'm not afraid of anything!" Enya remarked boldly, giggling a bit. She walked towards Quasimodo, who recoiled.

"You must not see me!" Quasimodo yelped, jumping farther into the shadows. "You won't want too…"

"But I do." Enya replied quickly, her eyebrows rising at his reaction. "Please."

There was no answer from Quasimodo. She could just hear him taking anxious, shallow breaths. She walked towards the noise, only to find that it was coming from behind a gargoyle. Enya slowly walked behind it. She could just make out a large, dark, slightly amorphous; figure huddled pathetically near a wall, quivering. A damask blush brushed across her face slowly as she realized how immature she seemed to be being. But she had to know why Quasimodo was so afraid of her seeing him. She walked towards it and stuck her hand out bravely.

"I know it's you," she said kindly, a gentle tone to her originally rustic voice. "You _can_ trust me, I won't hurt you. And I definitely won't be afraid, I think you're the one who is more afraid than I."

After a what seemed like an eternity, Enya silently coaxing the terrified bell ringer the whole time, her eager eyes relaxing him, she heard Quasimodo's breathing ease to a normal rate. A large, brawny hand carefully held onto her translucent, skeletal one. Enya cautiously walked backwards, as not to trip and slowly, ever so slowly, Quasimodo was pulled into the afternoon light that poured in from the window.

**Cliffhanger! Sorry to leave you guys hanging. That is, if anyone is actually reading this story LOL…**

***Graaine is Gaelic for "she who inspires terror"**


	3. Two Outcasts

As Quasi was slowly pulled into full view, Enya scrutinized him quickly before reacting to register the entire image of the young man. His back was mountainous and hunched over, an oddly shaped head sat on giant, bulky shoulders. He was thin, yet extremely muscular, with burly arms and hulking crooked legs. His free hand covered his face.

None of this bothered Enya except for the fact that his face was covered. She used her free hand to try to take it off his face.

"Let me see." she said.

"No! Please." Quasimodo pleaded.

"You can trust me."

Those words repeated in Quasimodo's mind and he slowly took his hand off his face and looked at Enya.

He saw her eyes widen and she took a few deep breaths through her nose. Quasimodo instantly felt awful and shrouded his face with his large hands again.

"Oh, you're afraid…" he moaned. There was a respectable moment of silence between them; then, something unexpected happened. Enya threw her head back and laughed.

"Are you kidding? No I'm not! I've just never seen anyone look like you before, funny bastard. Your face is out of the ordinary," Enya said. "Normality is damn stupid. I'm excited to see someone different."

Quasimodo was a bit confused. He shook his head, trying to understand. Given that he STILL didn't know her very well, he would expect to not know everything, but he would think that he might be able to just know slightly what to think. He couldn't read Enya _at all._ She was mysterious, but not in a quiet way. In an I-can't-understand-you-no-matter-how-hard-I-try way.

"So wait, you're not afraid? You _don't_ think I'm ugly? You're not scared of me?" Quasimodo said.

"Are you kidding? The guys where I originate from are WAY worse. You got a few imperfections, but they don't bother me."

"But I'm a monster!"

"Didn't anyone tell you that monsters don't exist? You a little empty in the head there, eh?" she lightly teased.

Usually this would offend Quasimodo if Frollo had called him empty-headed but Enya seemed to be treating him like a normal human being so it didn't hurt. It just felt like friendly teasing. He felt a plug connect in his mind. It was as if everything was piecing together, like a once mismatched pattern. Instead of looking down, Quasi found himself looking up and smiling at her playful remark and decided to get her back.

"You're a bit fiery aren't you?" he teased back, pulling a strand of her cochineal hair. She wrinkled her white nose and stared back at him.

"Who are you calling fiery?" she said, tugging at the mop of his crimson hair. He slightly flinched at her touch; a blush spreading across his face and an elfish grin broke out on his mouth. Before he could say anything, he heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He froze and his mouth dropped open. A familiar, chilly voice called up.

"Quasimodo?" it said menacingly. "I have brought you your lunch."

"You must hide! Or go! Either one would be acceptable!" Quasimodo said, awfully afraid of what would happen to her if Frollo saw her. Enya was confused, but ducked into the shadows reluctantly.

Quasimodo rushed around frantically and finally found his little table and sat down. Enya squinted her eyes as she spied from her hiding place. A tall, skinny, mean looking elderly man emerged from the stairs. Quasimodo seemed to quiver in his presence.

_Who is THIS knave?_ Enya thought, looking at the tall man. He seemed to glare at Quasimodo as if he had done something wrong. Quasimodo shook with terror.

"Lovely afternoon, isn't it Quasimodo?" the man said coldly.

"Y-yes master. I-I g-g-guess it is." Quasi said.

The man brought out a few large books and slammed them on the table, shooting a subtle look at Quasimodo. He sat at the table.

"Alright, you know what to do, lad." Frollo said, dismissing Quasimodo. The bell-ringer ran off to a series of cabinets and grabbed two plates, two glasses, and a bottle of wine. He rushed back over to the table and set them down carefully, wanting so badly to please the man.

Frollo looked down at him as if expecting something more grandeur from Quasimodo. Quasimodo just gulped and looked down. Just Frollo being there was enough to make him lose his appetite for good.

"Would you like to go over your alphabet today? I understand you're quite good at it now, unlike before." Frollo said, pouring the wine.

Quasimodo just nodded.

"Answer me boy, it's polite to answer." Frollo said again, frowning with disdain.

"Yes, Master."

Frollo raised an eyebrow disapprovingly and opened one of the various books that were set down on the table. He cleared his throat and flipped through one of the books, a navy blue one. The awkwardness in the air was enough to make Enya's stomach flip over.

"Ah," Frollo said, pointing a finger to a page. "A?"

"Abomination." Quasi answered.

"B?"

"Blasphemy?"

"C?"

"Contrition."

"D?"

"Damnation!"

"E?"

"Eny- Eternal Damnation."

Frollo raised an eyebrow and continued on.

"F?"

"Forgiveness."

This went on until the end of the alphabet. Enya spied in disbelief. She couldn't believe what she was witnessing.

_Poor Quasimodo_ she thought sadly. She wished she could do something, but she feared Quasimodo would get hurt if she did, so she stayed silent and hidden.

Frollo nodded his approval at Quasimodo.

"Okay. Done. Now Quasimodo, we must talk about something. First, stop stuttering. It's unpleasing to the ear and is asinine to deal with."

"Yes, Master."

"And second, our topic of today is sin."

"But we talked about that the last time you visited me."

"Don't contradict your elders boy," Frollo said shooting an annoyed look at Quasimodo. The lad cowered and looked down at his hands. "But why should I even be telling you that. Not much is expected of an ignorant monster."

_I'm not a monster_ flashed across Quasi's mind as he suddenly thought of Enya. He hoped she was okay- wherever the young woman was currently hiding.

Enya gasped at what the man said. It had been a while since she cried, but the young siren could feel the tears filling the bottoms of her eyes. She didn't know Quasi well, but she could just see that this man was hurting. And why was this older man-whoever he was-setting expectations on him? Wasn't Quasimodo a full-grown man? Wasn't he an adult? Questions spun around poor Enya's mind and she soon found herself concluding that these queries would not be answered until the cold man left.

"What is sin?" Frollo asked, staring at Quasimodo.

"Uh…well…" Quasi said, his mind clouding his thoughts therefore making the more studious answer obscure.

"Don't mumble, boy! You should know this!"

"Sins are bad things people do." Quasimodo cringed at his juvenile explanation but at least it would pass. Frollo also rolled his eyes at the answer and put his hand on his forehead.

"Fine…I can see you're tired. Your mind must not be as sharp as I once thought it to be. Very well, I will see you in a few weeks, maybe a month. I don't know. The Archdeacon, as you know, will bring your water and meals. Study, will you?"

"Yes, Master. Goodbye."

Frollo left without another word. As soon as Quasimodo heard the door down the stairs shut, he knew Enya and he were finally safe. He let out a tense sigh and looked towards the statures and dark statues.

"It's alright," he said, looking around for Enya. "You can come out."

Enya walked out of the shadows, her brow furrowed.

"WHO IS THAT?" she yelled rather loudly.

"My Master…" Quasimodo said timidly.

"He's awful!" she said, folding her arms and cursing under her breath. "What's up with this whole twisted alphabet? What's up with all these disapproving expressions? Why does he act as some sort of powerful figure to you? Does he have _power_ over you, Quasimodo?"

"Well he has power over the public…"

"Oh I'm SO sure."

"He's the Minister of Justice."

"The what?"

"Minister of Justice."

"Oh I'm so threat-…Oh."

"Yeah…" Quasimodo said looking at his hands. Enya's heated emotion faltered as Quasimodo look towards the window, yearning for something.

"Who is he to you, Quasimodo?" she asked slowly, sensing that there was something more to this man.

"Walk with me?" Quasi asked hopefully. Enya nodded. He led her out to the balcony and looked out at the setting sun.

"When I was a baby," he said, staring into the colorful sky. "I was taken in by this man. No one wanted me because I was…well, still _am_ deformed and ugly. He took me in and raised me here in this very bell-tower. He told me that it was a sin that I was ugly, that I could never see the real world because I would taint it and people would laugh and run away from me and tease me and be afraid of me. He told me this everyday of my life and I was forced to call him Master, like I was some sort of animal. I dare not call him anything other than that. This man's name is Frollo, Claude Frollo. He has been the Minister of Justice for as long as I can remember, and before that as well. He's extremely religious too, that's why he taught me the alphabet that way. That's why he makes me talk about sin and unjust acts. And he almost never visits me, which I guess is a good thing in some aspects. I guess I could thank him for saving my life too."

As Enya listened to all of this, taking it in and analyzing it repeatedly until it fully sunk in, the tears that had originally dried up welled again and dripped down her face. Nowhere had she heard of someone even more tortured by people than she. She felt selfish and shallow for thinking that the world was against her. They may've not liked her, but the way she was treated was nothing compared to what Quasimodo had endured. The red-haired lass lifted her head finally and looked into Quasimodo's eyes. His brow furrowed as he saw her tears fall.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Enya muttered. Quasimodo felt intensely guilty for what he had caused. He scooted closer to her.

"No, I should be the one apologizing. I hate that I made you cry." Quasimodo said, looking away, not being able to bear the sadness in her expression. Without warning she looked at him and gave him a hug, wanting so badly to give him the warmth and love he obviously deserved. It no longer mattered that she didn't know him, her heart instantly opened to someone who never had love. Quasimodo was stunned at this and at first tensed up, but he soon recognized it as an act of compassion and smiled. He hugged her back.

Enya felt herself flutter when his warm hands wrapped around her back in return. Quasimodo was still a bit confused at the hug but he loved it all the same. She pulled back, the sinking sun casting a warm glow on her face. She patted the side of Quasimodo's cheek.

"I want to show you something." he said, taking her hand and walking towards a model he built of the Notre Dame Square. Enya gaped at the accuracy and intricateness of the people, the buildings, and the Cathedral itself.

"Wow…" she said mesmerized. She leaned her pale elbows on the table and dreamily looked at the little model.

"This is as close as I can be to the actual world. It's not much, but at least it's some sort of a window." Quasi replied, rubbing the back of his neck pensively. Enya looked up at him.

"But you can experience the world, Quasimodo. You can."

Quasimodo looked down at his hands and blushed, a half smile on his face. Enya found it rather endearing. She looked outside at the sky and looked back at Quasimodo worriedly.

"I have got to go. You're a nice friend Quasimodo. I shall see you again." she said, and disappeared back in the bell-tower. He put his hand on the place she had touched on his face and sighed. Nowhere had he felt the kindness from anyone else like he had felt it from her.

Enya disappeared down the stairs and into the evening atmosphere. She was in reverie about the hug with Quasimodo and the talk they had. Nowhere had she felt more connected to anyone. It was like they were meant to meet, like they were meant to be friends.

The young woman walked around the Square, noticing the peasants slowly going back into their homes for rest. She looked up at the sky, the moon was now vivid, and the sky was slowly growing darker. Enya knew she would have to find shelter and a place to sleep soon, or otherwise face sleeping in an alley with the rats, which definitely was not ideal. A frigid breeze swept across the Square and she shivered. Looking up, she could see that dense, gray clouds were shrouding the once vivid moon. It was going to rain.

_Damn…_she thought and quickly trotted over to a gypsy tent that was left discarded. A bottle of wine lay next to it. Enya ran over to it and looked around, making sure the gypsy who owned this tent was not around-or the night patrol guards were not watching her. She climbed into it, drank the wine, and fell asleep.


	4. The Claim

She was woken up rudely by a rough voice.

"HEY! Ye trollop, get up and get OUT of my tent!" it yelled. Enya's eyes opened and she saw a bronze face staring at her with big brown eyes and a face full of hair. By the sound of the voice, it was male. She winced at the man's reaction, and even more so his appearance, and ran out into the streets in fear.

"Don't intrude again, you rat!" the man yelled, obviously inebriated. Enya ran faster, a little more than a bit shook up from the man's strident tone.

_So much for that…_ she thought, resting up against a wall, breathing heavily. Enya was being chased way too often. She had to stop getting herself into more trouble than she already was, but that seemed impossible at this point. She sighed and looked up at the sky. The rain pounded on the ground around her, creating small puddles in which she could see her reflection. She flinched; she looked even worse than before. Dirt streaked her hair and face and her dress was soaked. The tent hadn't been much help. She shook her head and decided she would clean up later, obviously sick of all the self-pity she was giving herself, forcing herself to think about the much more important aspect of her life at the time, survival. The guards would be patrolling the night shift about now so Enya would have to sidle very noiselessly and quickly to be able to find somewhere to sleep without intruding one's home or tent. But just as she was in the middle of devising her plan, someone came up behind her and held her arms back.

"We've found you, harlot." the person whispered. Enya tried to break free but the grip was hard. Several other men crowded her, filling every window of a possible escape way. Another man on a horse approached the group and looked down at them. Enya squinted in the dark fog and looked up, trying to fathom whom it was. All the sudden she knew. She gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth upon realization, her eyes wide with terror. The man on the horse, Frollo, stared down at here as if she were some vile animal who had just broken free. Enya could no longer take his seething gaze and looked down at her feet that were covered in mud.

"Who are you?" Frollo asked, narrowing his eyes at the girl.

Enya stared him down, her eyes burning into his.

"Who do you think I am, blackguard?" she snapped back.

Frollo raised his eyebrows, sarcastically amused.

"A wise one, have we? She'll learn to shut that trap of hers in the dungeon! Bring her to the Palace of Justice, fools."

"Yes, your honor." the officials said in unison, beginning to drag Enya. She bowed her head as if she had given up in an attempt to throw the guards off, when really, she was trying to think of a plan to escape. But there was no discernable way and now she would have to be put in a dungeon quite obviously far more secure than the other! Still she thought. There had to be some way, _some_ way to get out of this situation as swiftly inaudible as possible. She had to live.

Enya noticed Frollo was staring at her in a curious manner. Not gaping at her, but just studying her suspiciously. She glowered at him.

"What are you looking at, knave?" Enya retorted, scowling.

"Halt!" Frollo said and they all stopped. "I want to get a better look at this wench, I'll be able to decide her punishment clearer...something is strange."

He got off his horse and looked at Enya, coldly observing her. She glared at him bitterly. Enya's eyes danced with indignant flames directed towards the Judge. She breathed heavily, angrily watching Frollo's eyes as they studied her face. After what seemed like an hours, his cold, hard eyes broadened all of the sudden.

"You must reap what you sew. You will not get away with this, SIREN." Frollo said, finally coming to the realization of what this woman was.

"YOU BASTARD!" she yelled. "I've never hurt anyone!"

"How do you know she is a siren?" one guard asked rather quietly.

"When you are as familiar as me with the Holy Book you recognize these things quite easily. Sirens are dark creatures, able to lure a sailor in and-."

"NO!" Enya yelled, trying to get away from the guards.

"No one gets away with theft and NO one gets away with being a siren," Frollo said. "Now actually make sure she does not get away."

"NO!" Enya screamed louder and finally broke free of the men. She pushed some aside and they stood there dumbfounded that the woman had escaped them again. Frollo was enraged.

"Don't just stand around, find the strumpet! Bring her to me!" he yelled, just as Enya disappeared around a corner. Frollo jumped onto his horse and it reared back and whinnied before beginning it's large, menacing gallop. The guards followed close, running alongside the horse as fast as they could. They were near Enya. She looked back and tried to jog faster, but her ankles throbbed and she slowed down. Where was she charging towards anyway? There was nowhere to go. She started to give up hope when finally she spotted the Cathedral not to far from her.

She recalled a time when a few gypsies whispered amongst themselves about how you were able to be free of your consequences if caught by officials if you claimed Sanctuary in the Cathedral. You had to always stay though, you could not go outside, otherwise the Sanctuary protection was broken and the guards were free to get you. It was a tough decision, but Enya figured this might be best for her. It was hopeless to go anywhere else, the guards would find her and it would mean the end. Better to play it safe, she knew she wouldn't be there forever. Sooner or later Frollo and the guards would grow bored of trying to find her and busy themselves with other matters, right?

As she thought about this, another thought crossed her mind. Quasimodo also lived in the bell-tower. She could live there with him! He would keep her safe!

But then she'd have to hide from Frollo.

That was better than being _chased_ by him. And even then he could not get to her. Still she would hide. She did not want anything possibly happening to the bell-ringer.

The girl noticed she was losing time; she had to get to the Cathedral quickly. Enya anxiously ran to the doors of it and pounded on them.

"Sanctuary!" she screamed, knocking harder. Her knuckles ached from the repetitive hitting. She could hear the neighs and whinnies of the horse and the monotonous shouting of the guards and Frollo. She pounded firmer on the door.

"SANCTUARY!" she shrieked. An older man, quite obviously the Archdeacon, answered the door bewildered. Enya stood there breathing heavily; she gestured to the back of her and the Archdeacon quickly allowed her inside based on her circumstances. The monstrous doors shut behind them.

The interior of the Cathedral was lit by dim candlelight. The flames reflected and cast diverting shadows that brushed across the walls and Enya studied them before turning to the Archdeacon. She then looked at the older man and fell, desperate.

"Please allow me Sanctuary, Father. I am in danger." she said, lowering her head to show respect. The Archdeacon smiled at the girl and put his hand on her head of cerise locks.

"Dear child, I allow you Sanctuary," he said, taking pity on the poor girl. "You may live in the bell tower. There is a bell ringer up there that lives up there too. If I may ask, why are you afraid?"

She knew she had to tell the Archdeacon the truth. She could not lie to him.

"I am born of the water. But I promised I have never hurt anyone! I am nothing like the myths say! Please, Father. Please believe me," Enya cried pitifully. "They are after me."

"Any creature made by the Lord is God's child." the Archdeacon replied with a smile. Thankful tears fell from Enya's azure eyes.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much!"

The older man helped her up and she scurried into the dark corner, sneaking into the bell-tower hallway. A knock was heard on the Cathedral door. Enya sucked in her breath and quietly tiptoed up the taxing stairs as quickly as she could, passing off how absolutely exhausted she was.

She paused to hear the voices downstairs, nearly screaming when she heard the all too familiar icy one. She backed up against a wall and held her breath. Even though she was not visible, she felt terribly exposed.

"We are looking for a temptress," Frollo said, lividness lacing his voice. "We were wondering if we may find her here, she should be hanged as soon as possible."

"It's none of your concern whether or not she is!" the Archdeacon answered frustratingly and slammed the door shut. Even though the Archdeacon was a forgiving man, he was terribly irked with Frollo for disrespecting the sanctity of the Church and acting like he was the more superior of the people based on his religious values was and then turn around and commit a hypocrisy.

Enya could not tell whether or not her stomach was hurting from nerves or all the wine she drank. Either way, it didn't matter now. She ran up the stairs, hopeful to find Quasimodo, knocking over torches in the process. Their flames died out and the hallways dimmed. She did not care, all she wanted was her friend. She wanted him to hold her again and keep her in his arms like the two outcasts they were. She could care less that she didn't know him very well, she could _get_ to know him. If he was a pariah, she could definitely get along with him. It's not how long the friendship had lasted, it was the quality of it.

Quasimodo noticed that the light from the hallway that had originally shown through up to his bell-tower was darkening. He got down from the platform curiously and walked towards the opening where panicky noises were heard. All of the sudden, he saw Enya burst through.

"Enya?" he asked, noticing her frantic, restless behavior. Several small gargoyle statues lay on the ground from her graceless entrance. She collapsed on the ground with a thud.

"They're out to get me," she said. "They want me dead!"

"Who does?"

"Your Master does!"

"Why?"

Just as Enya was going to explain; she closed her mouth and looked down. It didn't feel the same as telling the Archdeacon. With the Archdeacon it had really just slipped out and truth was all she could focus on when telling him. For some odd reason, she could not bring herself to tell Quasimodo she was a siren. Enya felt that chances are he would probably be against her kind too. She had to conjure up something, and fast. She could feel Quasimodo's anticipating eyes waiting for her answer. But she knew she would feel awful for telling a lie to Quasimodo, Quasimodo had reluctantly shown his face to her, she had to return the favor to him by telling him what she was. But at the same time, she wanted to wait until maybe they were better friends as well, she didn't want to shock him. Oh, but how badly Enya wanted to tell him the truth! But what if he might be scared of _her?_ Her issue was a bit different-it was her species, not her appearance (albeit her species did affect her appearance). Oh, how it was making Enya's head hurt!

"I think it's best if I tell you later," she finally said, sighing, really not wanting to explain, even if she felt selfish. "I've been through a lot tonight. And I know I may sound rude but I wanted to ask you something, Quasimodo."

Quasimodo nodded.

"I claimed Sanctuary here, can I stay with you?"


End file.
